


stepping forward out into the day

by timeladyleo



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Bittersweet Ending, Gen, Light Angst, MJN is a family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:07:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22089850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timeladyleo/pseuds/timeladyleo
Summary: "Flying due west at seven p.m. We’ll have the sun in our eyes the whole way. I hate flying into the sunset." Or, sunsets and Zurich, and happy endings.
Comments: 8
Kudos: 25





	stepping forward out into the day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rachelvanbora](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rachelvanbora/gifts).



> For rachelvanbora for the 2019 secret santa!
> 
> I'm sorry that all I seem able to write these days is soft and sad pieces about the MJN family, but here we are again. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Title nicked from Bastille's "Weight of Living Pt. 1".

He hated flying into the sunset. 

All the charms of an evening sky had long been lost on Douglas, who had seen more than he cared to count. Any poetry about gilded horizons or blood-stained clouds had stopped pleasing him long ago, just like poems about fawning lovers or happy relationships. He’d been through enough marriages to know there wasn’t such a thing as true love. 

He didn’t really believe in happy endings either, not any more. Perhaps when he had been young and wide-eyed, and ready to take on the whole, wide world. 

What he believed in was contentedness. His life wasn’t perfect. He had never been able to hold a relationship long enough to feel like it was worth something, he hadn’t drunk in over a decade, he had kids he barely spoke to, and he would never ever be able to get another job that wasn’t here, next to Herc, in this ridiculous plane made of tin foil and string. 

And yet, that was okay. More than that, it was fine. And he didn’t mean fine in the way people said fine when they meant ‘not really okay at all’, but instead in the same way you might say ‘a fine day’ or ‘a fine meal’. Most people he knew didn’t even work with people they liked, let alone people they considered as close as family. At the end of the day, that was what MJN – no, OJS, was. 

Even Herc.

Maybe okay endings existed after all. Even if the sun was in your eyes and you had to sit in a box for hours and hours for your job. Maybe that was what happy was. 

-

He hated flying into the sunset. 

Martin had seen more gold in this castle alone than he had ever seen in the sky, met with more snobbish and superior people that he could have imagined. At least he got some points for being a pilot, a respectable profession, but he wished he could still say he was captain. Then, he could have competed with the gold a little.

These days, his mind drifted to now-OJS so often. Every time he had to squint for an orange sun, he thought about Douglas, complaining about the light and cheese and scheming something ridiculous. He probably still was. Martin liked the games they played at Swiss Air, but he felt too shy to suggest any that he knew. 

Switzerland had brought something out in him, but anxious thoughts didn’t go away for good just because he had a salary and a princess. Even if that helped, a lot. 

Late at night, in the dark, he delighted in holding Theresa’s hand, tangling their fingers together and imagining that they would never let go. He told her about how much he missed MJN, that sometimes he regretted leaving, that sometimes he was so afraid that he was going to screw up flying, or a royal do and get sacked or banished, and have even less than nothing.

At least with MJN he had had a family. 

And the most wonderful thing about Theresa was that she kissed him forehead gently, time and time again, and told him that the thing about family, true family, was that distance didn’t matter. And, for once, he didn’t struggle to believe her at all. 

-

She hated flying into the sunset. 

Mostly, she hated Douglas’ whinging about it. There were many things Carolyn hated more than sunsets, and indeed many things she liked a lot more, but she had deliberately stopped booking evening flights going West for the explicit purpose of shutting Douglas up. He seemed a lot more docile these days. 

Then, there was nothing really to argue about any more. There were petty squabbles, intense bickerings, even a little light teasing, but nothing seemed to get to them as much as it had, once. 

Often, she made Herc walk the dog with her on an evening. They never commented on the setting sun, only looked out across the lake and watched as ducks frightened the dog. She held his hand openly now, not even really pretending to be under duress any more. 

The fact was, she did like him a lot. She did want him to stay for as long as possible. And after all the silly nonsense with the gold, and Gordon, a tiny, near-forgotten part of her almost tried to make her believe in metaphorical fairy-tale endings and clouds with silver linings.

Of course, it was all a load of silly nonsense. Life just happened, no matter how hard you tried to make it happy. 

She was just glad that she hadn’t left it too late to realise that happiness could exist. That a decrepit old plane was the source of happiness was a surprise, but she took what she  
could get. And if that happened to be a ridiculous pilot who doted upon her, a smarmy and smug captain, and a lunatic of a sun, well, so be it. It was enough.

-

He loved flying into the sunset. 

In fact, there was nowhere he would rather be. Not necessarily about the sun, but Gerti in general. Arthur loved that plane. When they had nearly lost her to that auction, he had promised for Carolyn’s sake, that he would try to stay strong. He had cried, but had tried not to show it to anyone else. He was sure they knew how sad he was, but he wasn’t sure that they would all understand why. 

He loved the plane, that was true. But what really mattered to him were the crew.

When Martin had left for the last time, for real, Arthur had cried quietly in the back of the car the whole way home. For so long, as a child, he had dreamed of a big, loving family, who always listened to him and always loved him. And of course, he knew Carolyn loved him, but he had seen other families and every so often felt pangs of jealousy. 

But it was okay, because he had had MJN. 

Almost every week, he hand-wrote a letter to Martin and Theresa. He texted them almost every day, even after months, years. He didn’t want Martin to think they had forgotten him, and he liked Theresa. He liked nearly everyone, but Theresa was like a cool sister he had never had.

Sometimes, he was still sad that Martin wasn’t there any more, but they spoke so often that it didn’t seem to matter, eventually. Sometimes, when he was sad, he sat with his eyes shut, and reminded himself that he had Mum, who had been and always would be there him, and he had two brilliant Dad figures now – Douglas, who would always save the day, and Herc, who treated him with the kindness he had once felt so lonely without. 

He was lucky, really. 

Arthur really did believe in fairy tales and happy, flying into the sunset with a smile endings. As far as he saw, they existed, because that was what had happened to them. The plane was made of gold, and he got to fly with the people he loved best in all the world. 

What could be better than that?


End file.
